


A Taste of Tears

by Squeaky



Series: Deep Wounds [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"How could he make me do that? Have to hurt him to save his life?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Tears

He could tell the arm was broken by the way Malcolm was holding it, cradled next to his chest.

“We have to leave,” Trip said again. He could feel the water sloshing gently against his boots, the cold seeping inward through the leather.

Malcolm shook his head, causing a trickle of blood to slide down one cheek. “You know I can’t, Commander,” he said simply. His face was ashen.

“Malcolm,” Trip said, he moved closer to the other man, feeling the water swirl against his ankles, “I ain’t leavin’ you behind.”

“You have no choice,” Malcolm ground out. “My arm is broken. I can't swim with a broken arm.”

“I’ll help you,” Trip reached a hand out to Malcolm. “I’m a strong swimmer.”

Liz spoke from where she was kneeling, quickly jamming extra supplies into a pack. Her voice was tight. “Commander,” she said, looking up at him, “we don’t have time for this.”

“Exactly,” Malcolm responded. “Trip, go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you, Lieutenant,” Trip said, never taking his eyes off the other man. “You get yourself and Hoshi outta here,” he addressed Liz, “I’ll meet you on shore.”

“What?” Hoshi gasped, looking up sharply from where she had been working the consol of the shuttle, trying to send a distress signal. “We can’t leave you here! The shuttle is sinking!”

“You can and you will, Ensign,” Trip replied. His words had an edge to them. “I expect you and Liz to be swimmin’ in the next two minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Liz said. She stood. Her uniform was wet nearly to the waist. She buckled the supply pack across her back and looked at the lieutenant, still standing by the control panel, leaning heavily against the bulkhead. “You have to come with us, Malcolm,” she said, a note of pleading in her voice.

“No.” He closed his eyes.

“Malcolm-“ Liz started. She took a step towards him.

“Damnit!” Trip roared, “you and Hoshi get outta here, now! And that’s an order!”

“Yessir,” Hoshi and Liz responded together. Hoshi swallowed hard, and Trip could hear the sound of tears in her voice. “You’ll both follow right after,” she said, “right?”

“Now. Ensign,” Trip forced a note of warning into his tone.

“We’ll just open the top half of the door,” Hoshi said, “so not too much water comes in.” Trip heard the distinctive sound of the hydraulics as Liz and Hoshi forced the door. Immediately, he felt a rush of cold water around his hips, and the salty tang of an ocean flooded his nostrils. He could hear the pounding of the rain as it slammed against the water and the sharp wind whistled through the cabin. The emergency lighting began to flicker. He didn’t turn around.

“See you soon,” Liz said, and Trip heard her gasp as she slid into the water.

“You’ll both follow, right?” Hoshi said again, “Malcolm?”

“I’ll be fine,” Malcolm said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Don’t worry.”

“Ensign,” Trip snarled. The water was now up to his chest, the cold burning through his uniform and making his breath catch. He heard a small splash behind him and sighed with relief. He was still staring at Malcolm.

“This is bullshit, Lieutenant!” he spat, “now, I don’t know what bug's gotten up your ass, but I do not have time for this!” He waded closer to Malcolm. “We are leavin’ this shuttle, and we are leavin’ it now!”

“Trip,” Malcolm said, a look of resignation on his face, “you know that I am not a strong swimmer and terrified of water. If you try to help me, I will probably panic and drown us both.” His eyes were pleading. “Please go.”

“Nope,” Trip replied. He reached out one hand, grabbed Malcolm’s broken arm, and squeezed as hard as he could. He felt the bones grind together under his palm and swallowed a sudden rise of bile. Malcolm screamed and tried to pull his arm away. He swung at Trip with his other hand. Trip dodged, gripped harder. “C’mon,” Trip said between gritted teeth, “faint, you bastard.” Malcolm struggled against Trip’s hold, his eyes wide with pain and confusion. “Damnit!” Trip swore. He pulled his free hand back and hit Malcolm in the jaw, as hard as he could. Malcolm’s head snapped to one side, and he slid down the wall, slowly falling forward into the water. Trip shifted his grip from Malcolm’s injury and hoisted the unconscious man up under one arm, holding Malcolm’s head against his body. He began swimming towards the shuttle doors with his free arm, legs kicking.

The lights went out, plunging the shuttle into absolute darkness. Trip heard a creaking sound, felt the shuttle shift around them, and suddenly they were under water. The cold closed in around him like a fist.

* * *

Hoshi knew she was going to die.

The last bolt of lightning had flashed across the shuttle, lighting up the portholes for a second with an eerie yellow glow, and causing a violent short out in the control panel.

“God damn!” Trip had lunged out of his seat, reaching for the panel even while the smoke still billowed from it. “Malcolm,” he called to the lieutenant, who was determinedly handling the controls, “you’d better land this thing, and quick.”

“I am trying to do just that, Commander,” Malcolm's hands had flown over the command consol, his lips pressed tightly together. “She’s barely responding,” he had said. Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, he had addressed Liz and Hoshi, “You’d better find something to hold on to. I’m afraid this won’t be pretty.”

Hoshi remembered clutching so tightly to Liz’s hand that her arm had begun to shake with the strain as she tried to control the scream that was welling up, pushing at her throat. Liz’s eyes had been wide and extremely blue, her mouth open slightly in a reflection of her terror. It was at that second that Hoshi realized she had never told Liz that she loved her. And then the shuttle had hit the water, skipping over the waves like a stone.

At some point, she had been thrown out of her seat, forced to let go of Liz’s hand. If she had been scared before, that had been a moment of pure, blind panic as she realized Liz was gone from her grasp. Her eyes had flown open, the sharp pain in her head ignored as she frantically looked for the other woman. Then she had seen Liz, sitting up slowly, rubbing the back of her head and perfectly, wonderfully alive, and she had a brief thought that everything was going to be okay.

Then Trip had shouted that Malcolm was hurt. And the water had started to seep in and Trip had ordered them to leave him and Malcolm in the shuttle. And now they were going to die.

The water was painfully cold. Her hands were numb, her feet blocks of ice behind her as she kicked her way to shore. The rain poured over her, streaming into her eyes, forcing her head down, under the waves. Her eyes burned from the salt, her lips cracking from it, her mouth filled with the taste. The night was near perfect in its darkness: only the incessant shards of lightning helping her identify the deeper black of the land. Thank the Gods they had not crashed further out, she thought. Even so, she knew she would die, the black, shapeless lump of land the last earth she would ever see.

And she didn’t know where Liz was. That was the most terrifying part of all.

* * *

Ten seconds.

That was all the time you had until your brain noticed that you’d quit breathing. A few seconds after that, you’d get that funny feeling in your chest, not quite uncomfortable, but noticeable. A few more seconds, and your lungs got tight and the desire to exhale began.

It had been more than ten seconds, and Trip still hadn’t found the door of the shuttle.

He was floundering in the dark, one hand stretched out in front of him, desperately scrabbling against the metal for something familiar. His other arm was still wrapped around Malcolm, his body frightening in its stillness. Trip firmly clamped down on the small bud of panic that had started to bloom in his mind. _The door is here_ , he thought to himself, _I will find it_.

His chest began to feel tight. He felt a heaviness inside his ears, and he knew with terrible certainty that the shuttle was still sinking. His one hand brushed along the bulkhead frantically, desperately. His fingers met inch after inch of hard, cold metal. His hand was rapidly numbing from the cold. Suddenly, his fingertip met – nothing. No resistance, no hardness, just an envelopment of icy blackness. Wrapping his hand around the edge of the door, he pulled himself and Malcolm through, kicking his legs against the doorway to propel them beyond its silent, relentless decent. And finally, they were floating. Trip’s lungs began to burn.

Trip had never been in a darkness so complete. His life had always contained some sort of light. The pale ghosting of stars over the desert; the ripple of the moon on calm water. In his house growing up, there had never been a totally black room, a doorway capable of shutting out every last vestige of light. The darkest of rooms had always had a flashlight, the night sky always had an imprint of stars. Here, there was no stars, no sky. Not even the faintest glow that either of those things existed. They had been buried alive by water.

Trip closed his eyes, opened his mouth slightly and gently exhaled, letting the bubble of air slide along his cheek before disappearing. The bubble slid backwards, towards his ear. Turning and kicking, his one free hand clutching armfuls of water, Trip hurtled his way towards the surface. His shoulder ached from supporting Malcolm’s weight. His lungs were on fire, every molecule of his being screaming at him to breathe. Dots of bright colour began to form behind his eyes. He was not in total darkness after all.

It took him a precious second to realize he had finally broken the surface. His skin was so numb from the cold that he could feel no difference from one medium to the next. It was the lightning that made him realize he was not still drowning, and then the incredible, tremendous relief of filling his lungs with new, sweet air. Laboriously, clumsily, with Malcolm’s head and shoulders cradled against his chest like a child, Trip swam towards the shore.

Malcolm hadn’t moved at all.

* * *

Liz was on all fours on the beach, vomiting.

 _It’s only salt water and bile _, she thought. _A natural reaction to physical exertion and the threat of electrolyte imbalance_. Her throat burned and her sides heaved from the effort. _Only natural_ , she consoled herself. It made her feel a little bit better. __

After what seemed like an eternity, her stomach quieted itself, and she became aware again of the wet sand between her fingers and underneath her knees and the wind whipping hard enough to move her sodden, salt-encrusted hair off her shoulders. At least the rain had stopped finally, the storm receding in the distance with impotent flashes of lightning. Slowly she rose to her feet, breathing deeply against the rush of dizziness that threatened to drive her back to her knees.

She had a momentary flash of panic when her frozen fingers could not locate the clasps of the backpack around her chest, and she thought she had lost the bag in the waves.

Finally, the bag landed in the sand behind her, and she was able to pick it up and open it. The flashlight was right on top, not even damp. Its beam was incredibly bright against the wet black of the sand and the starless sky.

Liz shone the light up and down the beach, squinting her eyes against the encroaching shadows at its farthest reaches. There was no sign of Trip or Malcolm. She breathed sharply against the terror squeezing her throat. There was no sign of Hoshi. Nothing but acres of empty beach, and dark, rolling waves.

“Commander? Malcolm?” she called, the wind tearing the sound from her mouth and carrying it away, “Hoshi?” she tried again, her effort pulling at the rawness of her throat until she had to stop with coughing.

The attempt left her shaking, and she recognized that she had forgotten how cold she was, how quickly her wet uniform and the vicious wind was stealing the heat from her body. She turned and shone the flashlight beam away from the ocean, looking for something, anything that could act as a shelter and protect her from the wind. The beam hit the rough surface of a massive, sheer cliff, stretching beyond her sight in either direction.

Grimly and at random she decided to move left along the beach, to walk to the edge of the flashlight’s illumination to see if there was anything she could use as a windbreak. As she walked, she pulled one of the emergency blankets out of the pack and with numb fingers unfolded it and pulled it around her shoulders. The wind’s impact was immediately lessened, and she sighed in relief. As she walked, she mentally reviewed what she had managed to save from the shuttle: five emergency blankets, 12 ration packs, two flashlights, a flint and strike, a knife, a first aid kit, a phase pistol. She couldn’t remember if she had taken any water, or if in the rush not to drown, fresh water had slipped her mind. She knew she had forgotten her communicator in her sleeve pocket. Without even looking at it, she knew it had been exposed to the salt water, ruined. Hopefully Hoshi had been more clever, she thought. Her heart clenched. _Hoshi_.

* * *

With a final effort, Trip heaved himself and Malcolm onto the surf. He lay back, head on the wet sand, gasping. He could feel the ocean playing with his feet, swirling coldly where the boot leather met his calf. His vision grew dark, then cleared as he sucked in great lungfuls of air, pleasantly tinged with salt. It was the most beautiful sensation in the world.

Malcolm lay half-on, half-off his chest in a parody of the way they lay together after having sex; Trip’s arm draped over Malcolm’s torso, his chest pressed into the other man’s back as they spooned together, satiated, content, warm.

Malcolm’s body was terribly cold. Trip half-raised himself on one arm, trying to see Malcolm’s face in the dim light of the stars. The rain had stopped at some point when he was swimming towards shore, and the clouds had cleared.

Trip eased Malcolm onto his back. He got up to his knees, swaying with the effort, and put one hand on Malcolm’s chest to steady himself. He frowned. There was no movement under his hand. Trip waited a minute, his hand pressing into Malcolm’s chest. There was no gentle rise and fall, no stretch of muscle. No movement of any kind. Trip bit his lip, shook Malcolm, called his name. He shook Malcolm harder. Nothing.

Frantically, Trip pushed two fingers just up and under the place where Malcolm’s jaw met his neck. The skin was so cold, and his fingers were numb. He waited, trying not to count the seconds in his head, barely breathing. Finally, he felt it. The slow, steady pulse of Malcolm’s heart under his fingertips. He nearly cried with relief. He put his hand back on Malcolm’s chest. Still nothing.

Malcolm wasn't breathing. His efficient, athletic heart was still beating, waiting for the last drop of oxygen to be used up before stopping. But he was not yet dead.

Trip forced himself to be calm, forced his mind back to academy first-aid classes and the half-hearted practise they all had to do with the dummies and each other. “ABC,” he muttered to himself, as he knelt by Malcolm’s head. Placing one hand under Malcolm’s neck, he lifted it slightly while pushing softly against Malcolm’s forehead with his other hand. Malcolm’s head tilted back and his mouth fell open. Trip pinched Malcolm’s nostrils shut, and placing his mouth over Malcolm’s, exhaled two short breathes into the other man’s lungs. Malcolm’s lips were icy, and the thought came unbidden that this could be the last kiss they would ever share. The breaths went in easily. Trip turned his head, watched Malcolm’s chest, but it remained still. Trip breathed into Malcolm again. A long, slow breath this time, forced in until Trip could feel Malcolm’s chest rise. He stopped, took another breath, breathed for Malcolm, repeating the pattern again and again until he felt light headed, faint, like he couldn’t go on.

In first-aid class the instructor had told them that if they were alone, they could stop trying to make someone breathe when they were too tired to continue. At the time Trip had never questioned it. He had assumed that he would never use the lesson, that being aboard a star ship would be so full of life and adventure that death would be pushed to the farthest corners. He had thought he would never be alone.

He stopped, _only for a second_ , he thought, _just a second_. He leaned back, straightening out the painful cramp in his lower back, breathed slowly, deeply until the dizziness passed. He bent over, placing his hand on Malcolm’s forehead to begin again, knowing he would not stop again.

Malcolm coughed. Lightly at first, but then harder, until he was gasping and choking and Trip was supporting him, helping him to sit up. Malcolm retched, puking up salt water and heaving until nothing else would come.

“Thank God.” Trip’s relief was infused with joy.

Malcolm sank down into Trip’s arms, unconscious again.

Trip tried to stand, to pull Malcolm up and over his shoulder as he had been trained to carry wounded. He couldn’t. Exhaustion, panic, the bone-deep cold had taken all of Trip’s strength. He had an overpowering desire to lie down beside Malcolm, there with their feet in the water, and sleep. He shook it off, stood up slowly, like an old man.

 _I’ll find help_ , he decided. He began to shuffle down the beach, each step a nightmare of cold and fatigue.

He nearly fell over Hoshi before he saw her. She was kneeling in the sand, face turned upwards into the ferocious wind, and smiling.

* * *

The artificial sun shone brightly over the candy-pink coloured cobblestones and the old fashioned facades of the buildings, creating the allure of a cozy, old-time village from hundreds of years before. Hoshi ran back to her parents, a big red balloon trailing behind her, securely tied to her wrist. She was five years old.

Her mother bent down and gave her a big hug. Standing, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Hoshi’s ear. “Do you want to go on another ride, honey?”

Hoshi shook her head vehemently, “No, I wanna drink. My mouth tastes salty.”

Her dad looked up at the sun, slowly arcing its way along the dome, following the path of the guide-wires. The dome had been painted blue, preventing even a peek of the space and stars beyond. “It is rather warm in here,” he said, squinting his eyes and making the crinkly lines that Hoshi loved so much. He took off his jacket.

Her mother handed her a cup of juice: one of those brightly coloured cups with two handles and a small spout so children won’t spill. “Disney Moon does that on purpose,” she said, looking at her husband, “that way you’ll buy more drinks.”

“I love being warm.” Hoshi said. It was true. She turned her face towards the sun, closing her eyes and letting the rays play over her face and across her shoulders. The nasty, salty taste was in her mouth, and she made a face and took another sip of her cup. It was empty. “Mommy,” she said, “I need more juice!” She looked up. Her mother and father were gone. Instead, she was looking at a young blonde boy. He was older than she was, and his expression was frightened. He walked over to her, and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Hoshi,” he said, “I need your help.”

“Go away,” she replied, turning from him, “I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“Hoshi!” the boy said, his voice was angry and he pushed on her shoulder, forcing her to turn back towards him. His hand felt like ice. “I need you to help me carry Malcolm.” There was another boy at their feet. His hair and clothing were wet. He looked to be asleep.

“No!” Hoshi cried, putting her hands up to her ears, “go away! You’re cold. I don’t want to be cold anymore.”

The boy slapped her across the face. Her head turned sharply from the blow and she reflexively closed her eyes. Her cheek stung. It hurt, and it was so cold where he had hit her. She began to cry, and her tears burned against her face as they slid down. She rubbed them away with one hand, and opened her eyes.

She was on her knees in wet, cold sand. Her hair was a heavy curtain hanging down her back, and stray locks had fallen across her face when she had turned her head. She was soaking wet, and shivering violently.

Trip was standing above her, his expression hard. “Hoshi,” he said patiently, “Malcolm is unconscious. I can’t lift him by myself and I need your help.” He reached a hand out to her, “please?”

She took his offered hand. His fingers were freezing; hers were so cold she could barely close them around his. He helped pull her to her feet.

“Y’alright?” He asked. She could hear an apology in his tone. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. With Trip still holding her hand, she walked the few steps to where Malcolm lay on his side, close enough to the water that the retreating waves were lapping at his ankles. His skin was so pale Hoshi could see his face clearly against the dark sand in the cold light of the stars.

“The storm has stopped,” she said stupidly.

Trip had crouched down beside Malcolm’s head, and had put his hands underneath Malcolm’s shoulders, clearly trying to raise the other man off the ground.

“I had to hit him to get him to come with me,” Trip explained. Hoshi just nodded, bending down beside Trip and helping him to lift. Awkwardly, they hoisted Malcolm upright, and Trip bent Malcolm’s body across his shoulders. His knees buckled with the effort. “Damn.” Trip swore softly as Hoshi helped steady him. He smiled weakly, “I guess that swim took more outta me than I thought.” He turned painfully, and started walking up the beach, his face a mask of effort. Hoshi followed, hugging herself.

“Did you find Liz?” she asked.

“No.”

They trudged in silence.

Hoshi was aching from the cold, each step causing shooting pains through her feet and legs. She rubbed her arms, swallowing down the sob that threatened. Trip had already seen her cry once. She focused on his profile, the look of determination on his face, the way Malcolm’s head swung lifelessly against his shoulder with every step. She ignored the vision of the warm, sunny day at the amusement park, which called her from the corner of her eye. It had been so warm there that day. So warm. She half-turned her head towards the image, began to raise her hand to wave to her parents. She caught herself, forced her mind back to the present, bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying.

“What’s that?” Trip asked looking into the distance. He had stopped walking.

Hoshi froze in fear. She could see nothing but the grey-black expanse of stone ahead of them. She looked sideways at Trip, afraid she would recognize that he, too was reliving a memory of heat.

“Over there.” Trip said, pointing with his chin.

There was an orange flicker coming from a section of rock in the near distance. It cast a warm shadow on the sand, its heat almost palpable.

“It’s a fire.” Trip breathed.

“Liz!” Hoshi screamed. She took off towards the light, running.

* * *

The beam slid over the wall of the cliff, and then disappeared.

Liz stared, following the line of light with her eyes from where it left the flashlight, to where it ended, seemingly deep inside the rock face. She pressed her lips together in a faint smile, and walked up the beach towards the cave.

Inside was dry and out of the wind. The ground was flat and no footprints disturbed the sand. Small boulders littered the inside in a pattern reminiscent of a recent cave-in, and idly Liz wondered how far the cave had stretched before. Putting down the pack and balancing the flashlight on one of the rocks, she pulled out the phase pistol and fired it at a boulder. It thrummed as it absorbed the energy from the pistol, and started glowing a deep orange, radiating the energy out as heat. Liz nearly cried; it felt so good.

In the reddish light, she could see a half-dead tree just outside the entrance. Taking the knife out of the pack, she hacked off some branches, and pulled off some of the dried leaves. Kicking a small depression in the soil with her boot, she arranged the kindling, and pulled out the flint and strike. After the third try, the leaves ignited, and soon the wood was burning merrily.

“First order of business, getting warm.” Liz said to herself. She pulled off her boots and socks, and peeled out of her uniform down to her regulation blue underwear. Her flesh was goose pimpled, but she felt infinitely better not being covered in the soaking material. She lay her uniform over the still-glowing rock, hoping it would help it dry. Scouring the inside of the cave, she was able to find several more pieces of wood, which she quickly added to the fire. The inside of the cave was warming up quickly.

Liz picked up the emergency blanket where she had dropped it to remove her uniform and spread it on the ground by the fire. She sat down on it, hands and feet held out to the flames. They throbbed dully as they slowly became warm, but Liz welcomed the pain.

“Hey - maybe I won’t die after all!” she laughed to herself. Her thoughts instantly sobered, _I might have been the only one who didn’t die_ , and suddenly she was crying, tears falling unchecked down her cheeks as the enormity of her loss, and the desperateness of her situation. There had been no sentient life forms found on the planet, just ancient ruins, and the tantalizing hints of new organic compounds. _Incredibly stupid things to die over_ , Liz thought bitterly. She buried her face in her hands.

Sharply, abruptly, she wiped the tears off her face. _Tears won’t save your life_ , she admonished herself. If she had found a warm, dry place, then perhaps the others had done the same. She would look in the light of day she decided, when her uniform might be dry, and the temperature would be warmer. She added another piece of wood to the fire, banking it in the hopes that it would stay lit for most of the night. Unwrapping a second blanket from her pack, she wrapped herself in it and lay back down feeling almost warm, almost hopeful. She closed her eyes, waited for sleep.

She sat bolt upright, her eyes wide in the half-light of the fire. Someone had called her name.

Jumping to her feet, she ran out of the cave, searching wildly up and down the beach for the source of the sound. The wind grabbed at her, scraping against her body and immediately undoing the good done by the warmth inside the cave. She started shivering.

“Liz!” she heard again and turned towards the sound. There was Hoshi, running and stumbling up the beach towards her. Her gait was awkward, her hair loose and tumbling, her uniform wet, wrinkled and stained with salt. Liz stared. She had never seen Hoshi look so wonderful. And then Liz was running too.

They met in a spine-jarring embrace, Liz’s underwear immediately made damp by Hoshi’s uniform. They were both laughing and crying at the same time, and then Liz was kissing Hoshi hungrily, passionately. Her lips expressing her deepest fears of loss and the inexpressible elation that Hoshi was still alive. Hoshi returned the kiss with equal fervour. She tasted of salt.

“I could use some help, here.” Trip said. His voice was rough with fatigue. Malcolm was still across Trip’s shoulders and his weight had driven Trip to his knees. His head was bent forward as he swayed from side to side.

“Commander!” Liz shouted, “Malcolm!” Disengaging herself from Hoshi, she ran to them, immediately moving Malcolm’s weight off Trip and pulling him up onto her back. She staggered from the weight but managed to keep her balance. “Follow me,” she said tersely, and started walking back towards the cave, sand crunching under her bare feet.

* * *

Hoshi was dreaming again.

She dreamed she was being held by her father, cuddled up against his side while he read her a story by the fire. She could hear the wind howling beyond the windows, and see the snow whirling as it was caught in the lights from the house. She thought it looked like angels dancing.

Her father was reading her a book about spaceships, and she had made him laugh by saying she was going to go on a spaceship one day, and fly higher than the stars.

“But honey,” he had said, “it’s cold in space. You hate the cold.” He had put his arm around her, drawn her closer to him. “Stay here with me,” he said, “I’ll keep my baby warm.” And she was warm, curled up against him. His warmth seeped through his clothes, radiated from his skin. It made her hot. She frowned in her dream. _Too hot_. She tried to move away from her father’s embrace, but found that she couldn’t. She was held in place by someone’s arm. _Liz_.

She woke. Liz was cuddled behind her, spooning against her with an arm gracefully thrown over her waist. Hoshi was lying against Malcolm, and he was burning. Hoshi sat upright, gently moving Liz’s arm from her body. The sweat that had formed from her contact with Malcolm ran down her side in rivulets, cooling in the early morning air.

A large bruise had formed on Malcolm’s temple where he had hit his head in the shuttle pod crash and another had formed on his jaw. His face was flushed, his eyelids fluttering. He coughed in his sleep.

“Liz,” Hoshi said, half-whispering. “Liz, get up.”

The other woman murmured something, tried to move closer to where Hoshi had been. She contacted only the coolness of empty space and opened her eyes. She blinked, saw Hoshi, and smiled.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Liz said. She placed her hand on Hoshi’s thigh and closed her eyes.

“Liz!” Hoshi hissed, “Wake up. Something’s wrong with Malcolm.”

Liz sat up, scrubbed her face with her hands. Her blond hair hung in strands about her face, knotted from the combination of salt and wind. Her eyes were red rimmed and looked pale in the dim light. “Is his arm still splinted?”

“It’s not his arm,” Hoshi whispered, “he’s really hot.”

Liz was instantly alert. She moved to kneel beside Hoshi, close to Malcolm’s head and put her hand on his forehead. She then touched his face, and slid one hand up under his t-shirt. “Shit,” she muttered. She looked at Hoshi and bit her lip. “Okay,” she breathed after a second, “we need to cool him down.” She looked towards the entrance of the cave, then back at the other woman. “Hoshi, “she said, “go outside and tell me what the temperatures like. If it’s cool enough, we’ll move Malcolm outdoors, maybe even use some salt water to wipe him down with.”

Hoshi nodded her understanding, and jumping to her feet, moved to go outside. Liz’s arm on hers stopped her. “What happened to your face?” she asked.

Hoshi fingered the bruise on her cheek; felt her gaze slide over towards Trip’s sleeping form before she could stop it. “It must have happened in the crash,” she said.

Hoshi saw Liz’s gaze flicker over towards Trip before returning to look into Hoshi’s eyes. She saw concern and a flash of surprise. “Did Trip hit you?” Liz asked.

“I’m going to check the temperature.” Hoshi said. She ran outside.

The day was clear. The sun a cool yellow reminiscent of autumn on earth, and even the fierce wind of the night before had died to a pleasant breeze. There was barely a ripple on the ocean, and not a cloud marred the light blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Hoshi shivered slightly as the light gusts touched her bare skin. It was still much cooler than the inside of the cave. She went back in.

Trip was still sleeping. One arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. He had moved away from Malcolm some time during the night and had thrown off his emergency blanket, probably in response to Malcolm’s heat.

Hoshi knelt beside Liz. “It’s cooler outside than in here,” she said. She gestured towards Trip with her chin. “Should we wake him?”

Liz looked up at Trip’s sleeping form, glanced quickly to the bruise on Hoshi’s cheek. “No,” she replied emphatically. “You and I can carry Malcolm outside.” She lifted Malcolm under his arms, his head lolling against her shoulder. “Can you please get his legs?”

Hoshi immediately knelt by Malcolm’s feet and slipped her arms underneath his knees. Liz counted to three, and they both lifted. Hoshi stumbled as Malcolm’s weight surprised her. She caught herself and smiled at Liz. “I’m okay,” she said in response to Liz’s worried look, “let’s go.”

They began walking towards the entrance of the cave, Hoshi stepping backwards, looking over her shoulder every once in a while to avoid any obstacles. They reached the opening, and Liz indicated they should take Malcolm closer to the shore. Hoshi set Malcolm down gratefully as soon as she felt her feet touch water. She straightened, hands on the small of her back. “The boy is heavy!” she smiled.

Liz was already at Malcolm’s side, and had taken off his t-shirt, soaking it in the salt water. She began using it to sponge Malcolm down on his forehead and under his arms. He coughed, but didn’t waken. She paused, “It would probably be better if Trip wet down his inner thighs,” she said to Hoshi, then frowned.

“I could go wake him,” Hoshi offered.

“Not if he’s going to hit you again.” Liz kept her gaze steady on Malcolm’s chest as she wet his groin.

“He didn’t hit me, Liz.” Hoshi said. She shrugged slightly at Liz’s sharp look, “well, only because he had to.”

Liz stopped, stared at Hoshi with an open mouth. “Because he had to?” she said, “what the hell?”

“You don’t understand,” Hoshi was desperate to explain, “I was really cold, it was making me hallucinate. Trip slapped me to snap me out of it.”

Liz looked doubtful. “He didn’t need to hit you.” She dipped the shirt in the water again, and passed it over Malcolm. After a moment she looked up, and Hoshi could see Liz’s anger at Trip had been replaced by fear. “You were really hallucinating?” Liz said, a tremor in her voice.

“Uh huh,” Hoshi affirmed, “he probably saved my life.”

Liz’s smile was weak, “Well, that’s good.”

Hoshi looked back towards the cave. “I should probably go wake him.”

Liz nodded her head. “We’ll need his help.” She looked at Hoshi, “Unless you don’t –“

“It’s fine.” Hoshi said, and went back inside to where Trip lay.

She shook Trip gently by the shoulder. She said his name. He turned his head away from her but didn’t waken. She shook him harder. “Trip, get up.”

His hand was on her throat, the other pulled back in a fist before Hoshi could move. She gasped; her eyes wide.

Trip blinked stupidly. “Hoshi?” he said. His voice was hoarse. Immediately he dropped his hands.

“I thought only Malcolm could do stuff like that.” Hoshi said. She tried to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Trip said. He rubbed the back of his head, looked up at her through his lashes. “I was havin’ a bad dream.”

Hoshi gave him a wan smile, “We took Malcolm outside. Liz needs your help.”

“Okay,” Trip said. He ghosted across the bruise on Hoshi’s cheek with his fingertips. “Ouch,” he winced, “I do that?”

Hoshi’s smile faltered, “It’s alright.”

Trip nodded glumly and let Hoshi lead the way outside the cave.

As soon as they stepped outside, Trip ran down the beach to where Liz was and knelt beside Malcolm’s head. “What happened?” he said, a look of panic on his face.

“Malcolm has a fever.” Liz said flatly.

Trip blanched. “Malcolm’s sick?” he said.

“Yes.” Liz replied. “He probably caught something from the ocean.”

“How bad?”

“I don’t know.” Liz replied. “I’ve been wetting him down with seawater to help bring down the fever, but I don’t know what caused it.” She looked up at Trip. “Did he take in a lot of water during your swim to shore?”

“I guess.” Trip said, “I had to knock him out to get him to leave the shuttle.” He paused, took a breath. “I thought I could just drag him to shore.”

“If he were unconscious underwater,” Liz said, “he probably inhaled some sea water before you broke the surface. It’s probably caused some aspiration pneumonia.”

“Oh God,” Trip said. He sat down on the sand, covered his eyes with one hand.

Hoshi went to him. “Hey,” she said softly, putting her hand on the back of his neck, “it’s not your fault. He would’ve died if you hadn’t—“

Trip inhaled sharply, stood up. “What does he need, Ensign?” he said to Liz.

“He’ll need fresh water when he wakes up.” Liz answered, “A lot of it. And some food as well. We can give him one of the ration bars I brought with me, but we need to find some water.” Liz turned to Hoshi, “please check to see if our uniforms are dry enough to wear, and if so, can you bring them to us outside?”

 

Hoshi agreed and went to the uniforms where they had been left hanging over the phase-pistol heated rock the night before. Liz’s was only damp at the seams, while hers and Trip’s a little more so. Quickly she put hers on, grateful to not have to remain clad only in her regulation blues. She left her feet bare as her boots were still wet. Picking up Liz’s and Trip’s uniform, she took them outside.

Liz smiled her thanks and stood up, passing the cloth to Trip. She rapidly dressed herself and then took the cloth back from Trip so he could do the same. Liz had knelt back down beside Malcolm. She raised his injured arm, inspecting the splint she had put on the previous night. “The bone broke the skin,” she said, biting her lip. “I think that the wound is infected as well.”

Trip rubbed his face with his hand and turned towards the ocean, head down. Hoshi could see his shoulders shake slightly, as if he were trying not to cry. After a moment, he turned back to her, seeming firmly in control. “Please go inside and empty out the emergency bag and bring it back,” he said to her, “we’ll use it to carry whatever water we can find.”

Hoshi nodded again and returned inside.

* * *

Malcolm woke in small pieces.

He could hear the gentle touch of the surf against the shore; a call of a bird; the soft movements of someone beside him. He could smell salt; feel the heat of the sun against his skin. He frowned. His skin was hot. Uncomfortably so.

And then he felt the burning pain deep in his lungs.

He sat up, coughing and coughing until his ribs ached, and still he could not clear his lungs.

“Easy,” a woman said. He felt a hand rubbing his back, strangely cool. He could feel the heat pouring off him.

Finally, the coughing subsided, and he sagged back down, exhausted, his eyes streaming.

“Liz?” His voice was rough, unnatural.

Liz brushed the damp hair off his forehead. She smiled at him, but her eyes were shadowed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shite,” he grimaced. He tried to lick his lips. There was no moisture in his mouth; it tasted like salt. Like sand. He was about to ask for a drink of water when a terrifying thought struck him, and he tried to sit up. “Trip?” he gasped. Before Liz could reply, he had dissolved into another fit of coughing.

“It’s okay,” Liz braced him against her arms. “Trip and Hoshi have gone to find some fresh water.”

Malcolm finished coughing, spat something horrid and yellow into the sand beside him. He collapsed against her, shaking. “Good,” he croaked, hating the weak sound of his voice. His chest ached. He ached. His head was pounding and his skin felt like it was on fire. There was something wrong and painful with his right arm as well. He lifted it briefly and looked at the makeshift splint, the red, swollen skin, let it fall back down. He closed his eyes, feeling the air rattle through his lungs.

“You have pneumonia.” Liz explained, though he hadn’t asked.

“Lovely,” he wheezed, and suddenly he was coughing again, being helped into a sitting position by Liz as his lungs tried to clear themselves of their infection. Finally the spasm subsided and he lay in Liz’s arms sweaty and weak. He wanted to ask her how he had gotten sick, whether or not this was a result of his rebellious and allergy-prone immune system. “Why?” was all he was able to force out through lungs too tight for breath.

“Seems that you were refusing to leave the shuttle,” Liz said with a casualness that sounded false, “Trip had to knock you out in order to get you to shore.”

 _So that explains the sore jaw_. Malcolm thought.

“The shuttle was underwater by the time that Trip was able to get you both out.” Liz continued, “You must have inhaled some water on your way to the surface.”

“I wanted him to leave me behind,” Malcolm said, panting between words. A gust of wind touched his damp skin, and he shivered, feeling the prickle of goose pimples.

Liz frowned. “Time to get you back inside.” She crouched down behind him, hoisting him underneath his arms, “can you stand?”

Malcolm nodded, afraid to use his limited strength with speaking. He stood awkwardly, using Liz’s strength to bolster his own. The world tilted crazily and he felt his knees give way, all power gone from his legs, Liz keeping him from falling.

“Easy, Tiger,” she said, and he had to smile at the ridiculous nickname. He let her half-carry him back inside the cave and settle him on the emergency blankets they had all slept on the night before. She draped one over him before she went to re-light the fire.

Malcolm looked around, realizing he had no memory of arriving at the cave.

“You were pretty out of it,” Liz said, clearly reading his confused expression. “You were probably already sick by the time we got you here.”

Malcolm swallowed, feeling the scratchiness of his parched throat. _Enterprise_?” he managed to breathe before yet another fit of coughing overtook him.

Liz was at his side in an instant, once again helping him to sit up while he coughed. “Hoshi wasn’t sure she had been able to send out a distress signal before we crashed,” Liz said, “and Trip said that we were most likely way off our original co-ordinates by the time the shuttle went down. Plus, the storm didn’t help much either.”

He had finally stopped coughing, and Liz eased him back down.

“They couldn’t look for us in the storm.” Malcolm said; each word an effort.

Liz nodded, “the storm ended sometime late last night, after we all got to shore.” She moved back to the fire, looking out the entrance to the cave. “I’m expecting a rescue any minute.” She laughed lightly, but it was obviously only for his benefit.

Malcolm put his one good arm over his face and closed his eyes. His chest felt tight, and strangely cold. The wheezing of his breath was eerie and unpleasant. It felt like there was no room in his lungs for air. He imagined the fluid floating at the bottom of his lungs, sloshing back and forth with every expansion of his chest, his muscles creaking against the effort of trying to move all that liquid. _So many ways to drown_.

Liz’s voice startled him out of his reverie. “So, why did Trip have to knock you out to get you to leave the shuttle?” she said, her back to him as she tended the fire.

Malcolm didn’t answer. His head hurt, he wanted to sleep.

Liz turned towards him, sat down. “I mean,” she continued, “why didn’t you just leave the shuttle with us?”

“I’m afraid of water.”

“Trip said he would help you to shore.”

“He would have drowned when I panicked.” Malcolm said, irritated. The sentence was chopped up, each syllable requiring its own bit of air.

“Well, he could’ve drowned anyway,” Liz spat, her face suddenly angry, “having to drag your sorry ass instead of you swimming.”

Malcolm frowned, removed the arm from over his eyes. “Hell of a way to speak to superior officer. Ensign,” he wheezed. That effort started him coughing once again. Liz helped him role over to his side, and supported his upper back.

“Oh give it a rest, Malcolm,” she sighed, “you’re in your damn underwear.”

Malcolm lay back, gasping, unable to reply.

Liz moved to sit opposite him, legs extended, arms locked behind her. “What is with you, and this need you have to sacrifice yourself all the time?” she asked.

“Needs of many outweigh needs of few,” he panted.

“That’s bullshit!” she swore, leaning forward, and Malcolm was reminded suddenly of Trip in the shuttle. “What about our needs? The needs of your friends for you not to suffocate trapped against the hull, or drown in a shuttle pod, or freeze to death in an airlock?”

“Trip wanted to go in the airlock,” Malcolm muttered.

“I’m not joking, Malcolm!” Liz shouted, and he was surprised to see a glistening of tears in her eyes as she blinked rapidly. “We care about you, you dumbass! Trip loves you for Chrissakes. Doesn’t that mean anything?” her voice cracked on the last word, and she rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. “Great, now I’m crying.”

Malcolm raised himself up on his elbows, wanting to look Liz in the eye. He coughed with the effort, but was pleased it didn’t overwhelm him this time. “Liz,” he gasped, “I could not live with myself if one of the crew died in a misplaced attempt to save my life.” Spent, he sagged back down onto the blanket.

“And how is the crew,” she emphasized the word, “meant to live with themselves if you died because you didn’t even let us try to save you?”

“Happy,” he forced out, “happy that they saw the logic in my decision. That I died in service to _Enterprise_.” He closed his eyes again and covered them with his arm.

“Don’t you think that you’re worth the effort to save?” Liz said, her voice small.

Malcolm frowned, hoping she could see it. He kept his arm in front of his face. “I am not as important as the ship,” he panted, praying that would make Liz understand.

“Trip thinks you’re the most important thing in the universe,” Liz replied, “he would die if anything happened to you. You can’t keep doing this to him.”

Malcolm lowered his arm, looked hard at Liz. “He knows how much I care about him. I’m not trying to kill myself.” Malcolm tried to make the statement decisive, but ended up coughing instead, Liz helping to bear his weight.

“Does he?” Liz said finally, when Malcolm’s cough had subsided, “Because I think every time you try to sacrifice your life, a little piece of Trip dies as well.”

“Fucking brilliant.” Malcolm muttered. He closed his eyes.

* * *

“He’s going to be all right, you know,” Hoshi said.

She and Trip had been walking in silence for at least half-an-hour; the only sound the dull roar of the surf and the crunch of their boots against the sand. They had found a pool of fresh water left by the rain the night before about 20 minutes from the cave, and after drinking their fill, they had filled up the bag and were now heading back. Trip had been uncharacteristically silent, walking quickly, face dark.

Trip looked sharply at her. “I know.”

Hoshi blushed, surprised at his harsh tone. “I just thought--“

“Well, don’t.”

“--That you might want to talk,” she finished, stopping her walk and turning towards him, arms crossed.

“I’m fine.” He halted and glared at her.

“That’s what Malcolm always says.”

“Look,” Trip turned to her, crossing his arms as well. “Malcolm gets hurt. I’m gettin’ used to it. End of story.” He started walking again.

“That’s amazing,” Hoshi replied, jogging a step to catch up, “because if it were Liz who had a permanent bunk in sick bay, I don’t think I’d be able to ‘get used to it.’”

“What do you want me to say, Ensign?” Trip shouted, flinging his hands upwards.

 

“You could tell me the truth, Trip!” Hoshi said back, purposely using his nickname. She softened her tone, “I’m your friend. I’ll listen.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to say,” Trip said, “Malcolm has a dangerous job.”

“But--“

“Will you just leave it go Hoshi?” Trip yelled, “the only thing I’m worryin’ about now is gettin’ this water back to Malcolm. Not his job, not his sickness, just bringin’ the water.” He glared at her. “You got that?”

“Yessir,” she replied stiffly. They walked the rest of the way in uneasy silence.

* * *

Liz knelt on the floor of the cave and emptied out the med kit onto an edge of the emergency blanket where Malcolm was lying. She had used the splint and half the bandages the night before to bind up Malcolm’s broken arm, but other than that, the kit was mostly intact. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked, looking up at Malcolm every once and awhile to check on him. He appeared to be asleep. She smiled to herself as he muttered something as he slept. Apparently, he was dreaming as well.

“Two hyposprays, one with pain medication, one with adrenalin. Several bandages, Eye wash and protective cover, anti-bacterial ointment-“ She stopped naming the items and frowned to herself as she looked at the small tube, debating whether she should use it on Malcolm’s arm. She shook her head, decided against it. The infection had clearly moved beneath the skin, and the ointment would do no good. “Oral pain medication, another emergency blanket, tweezers, scissors…” She sighed, let her voice trail off. There was nothing in the kit that could truly help Malcolm. They needed Phlox and sick bay and a few good doses of antibiotics, not a tube of ointment in an under-supplied bag.  
She sighed and started to pack the bag back up, glancing over at Malcolm’s face, expecting it to look easy and relaxed in sleep.

She paused.

His lips had taken on a bluish tinge.

Her eyes grew wide. “Malcolm!” she said, shaking him by the shoulders. His skin felt cool and damp beneath her hands. He mumbled something unintelligible and didn’t open his eyes. “Malcolm!” she shouted, fear coiling itself tightly inside her.

He started to seize. His head thrashing backwards, his arms and legs flailing wildly. His back arched, bent, arched again. Blood flowed out of the corner of his mouth.

Liz scooted herself away from him, narrowly missing being hit in the head by an uncontrolled fist. Desperately, she cleared everything away from him, pouring the first aid kit items haphazardly back into their box.

And still his fierce contractions continued.

Liz covered her mouth with one hand. She had never witnessed anything like this before. Her training as a medic had covered things like seizures, but always in clean, clinical terms. Always with the expectation that help would be imminent, that doctors and nurses with proper medications would only be moments away.

She was alone here, alone on a deserted planet with only the most basic of medical supplies. All she could do was wait for it to stop, and hope that Malcolm was still alive when it was finally over.

After what seemed like an eternity, Malcolm’s wild movements slowed, and then stopped. His face was incredibly pale. His eyelids purple, his lips still that abnormal blue colour. Blood oozed out of his mouth, sliding down the side of his face. He wasn’t breathing.

Immediately, Liz tilted him to one side, and swept her finger through his mouth, flicking a wad of blood and mucus to the sand. She gently placed him on his back, tilted his forehead towards the ground and began artificial respiration. Her training took over, and she breathed into Malcolm’s mouth with slow, deliberate movements. Each breath followed by the next in a measured chain. Liz forced herself to focus on the small details, the shadow of beard around Malcolm’s lips against her cheek, the sound of her exhalation, how her heart felt, hammering in her ears. _It’s just practise at the academy_ , she thought between breaths, _just practise_. She could taste the blood on his mouth.

She heard the sound of footsteps beside her, Trip’s voice trailing off as he told her they had found fresh water. She concentrated on the action of breathing.

Malcolm’s mouth moved beneath her own. He coughed, shuddered, stilled. Liz looked up sharply, and felt all the tensions leave her in a rush as she realized Malcolm was breathing on his own, a slight pink colour on his cheeks, his lips turning a bit more red. She felt suddenly dizzy and placed her head in her hands.

Trip was immediately by her side. “What the hell happened?”

Liz didn’t look up, concentrating instead on not vomiting. “Malcolm had a seizure,” she said from between her hands, “I think he went hypoxic or something. His lips were blue.”

She heard Hoshi gasp from somewhere behind her. “Is he going to die?”

Liz lowered her hands, let her shoulders drop. She found herself looking right at Trip. He was kneeling beside her, holding himself very still. His pulse was beating rapidly at his throat, a visible betrayal of his terror.

“He might.” Liz said, unable to think of a better way to say the dreadful truth, “he’s breathing on his own now, which is good, but he could stop again at any moment.” She looked at Trip. “Someone has to watch him all the time.”

“There’s blood.” Trip said, pointing at the side of Malcolm’s mouth. He swallowed hard.

Liz wiped up the blood with the side of her hand. “He just bit his lip during the seizure,” Liz explained, “the bleeding’s already stopped.”

“What happened?” Hoshi asked, despair evident in her tone, “he seemed stable before we left.”

“I don’t know,” Liz said honestly, “he could be septic from the infection on his arm, or his lungs could be filling up with fluid really fast. Either way, he wasn’t getting enough air to his brain.” She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing that her hands were now shaking. She leaned her forearms on her knees and looked down at the sandy floor, purposely avoiding Trip’s gaze. “If we don’t get rescued soon…” She found she couldn’t finish the sentence.

Trip looked at Malcolm’s pale, sweating face for a long moment. Then he stood heavily, drawing Liz’s eyes. “Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, his voice sounded thick. “If y’all don’t need my help for a minute, I think I’ll go outside and, uh, check to see if anythins’ washed ashore from the shuttle.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left.

Hoshi came and sat beside Liz, her face stricken. “ _Enterprise_ should come for us soon, right?” she asked, “I mean, they must have located our biosigns by now?”

“Sure,” Liz managed a small smile, “should be any time now.” She pulled a blanket over Malcolm and began to stroke his hair back from his forehead. The repetitive movement was soothing.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” Hoshi whispered.

“As bad as it can get.” Liz agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment. Hoshi left, and returned with the bag of fresh water. “Do you want some?” Liz nodded, and Hoshi held it for her while she took a drink. The water was slightly brackish but instantly refreshing, and Liz had to force herself to not drink too much, too quickly.

Hoshi was staring down at Malcolm. “I guess we can’t give him any, huh?”

“No,” Liz shook her head. “Not unless he wakes up, and I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“So, if the pneumonia or the infection doesn’t kill him--”

“--Dehydration will,” Liz finished for her. “I hope _Enterprise_ gets here soon.”

Hoshi closed the backpack, and propped it up against a stone by the fire. She looked towards the cave entrance where Trip had gone just moments before, then turned back to Liz. “I think I should go check on him,” she said, biting her lip. “That is, if you’re okay here--“

Liz forced another smile. “I’ll holler if I need you,” she said, “don’t worry.”

Hoshi quickly kissed her cheek, “I’ll be back soon.” She followed Trip’s footsteps outside.

* * *

Hoshi found Trip a few feet from the cave. He was standing at the shoreline, staring at the ocean.

She debated for a minute just going back inside and leaving him to his quiet contemplation. Then she saw him cover his face with his hands, and knew that he probably didn’t want to be alone. She walked over to him, making sure her boots crunched loudly against the sand so that he would know of her approach.

“Hey,” she said.

“Oh, hi, Hoshi,” Trip replied, glancing towards her before returning his gaze to the water. The ocean was grey, the wind frothing the waves into white peaks. Every once in a while a few drops would fly up, sprinkling their faces. Hoshi licked her lips. It tasted like tears.

“You okay?” she asked. She put her hand on his arm.

“Sure,” he replied, gave a mirthless laugh, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Malcolm’s so sick,” Hoshi said. She looked up at his profile as he watched the water. His eyes were dark, unreadable. She turned her head to look out across the water. “I know I’m scared.”

“Yeah.” Trip responded.

Way above, a sea bird twirled once, twice over the water and then dived, making a delicate splash. Hoshi waited expectantly for it to return, but it had disappeared from view. Liz had made a note of those birds before, when they had first arrived on the planet. Now all her research, along with Hoshi’s decryption of the engravings on the ruins were at the bottom of the ocean. Disappearing as the data padds fell apart and corroded. She had a sudden thought of hundreds of years from now, different explorers arriving on the same planet, finding their remains and wondering what they had been doing there. Alien hands holding their bleached bones, tracing the patterns of their skeletons with alien fingers. She shuddered.

Trip looked at her, “You okay?” he said, repeating her question.

“Just somebody walking across my grave,” she said and tried to smile. Trip smiled back, but his eyes remained unchanged: blue and dark. The silence stretched between them.

“I’m scared to death, Hoshi.” Trip said suddenly, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“I was terrified when you first found me,” Hoshi said, “and you didn’t know what had happened to Liz.” She turned her face towards him, “I can’t imagine what this must feel like for you.”

“I really wish I could get used to this,” Trip continued, “It’s not like he’s never been hurt before. I mean, hell!” Trip held up his hand, began counting off on his fingers, “he’s been shot twice, trapped on the hull, nearly frozen to death, beaten up, nearly hung, impaled, nearly drowned, now he’s sick--” Trip paused, dropped his hands. “Hell, I even broke his nose for him.” He was still staring at the water.

“Don’t forget nearly getting crushed by a gas giant,” Hoshi said.

Trip smirked, but there was no humour in it, “I forgot about that.” He looked at the ground.

“Trip,” Hoshi said, moving to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm, “there are inherent risks working on a star ship. We all knew that when we signed on.”

“I know that.”

“And think of how many times you’ve been hurt,” she persisted, “you were also nearly frozen on that shuttle, and nearly died of heat stroke in the desert. Plus getting knocked out when the Suliban destroyed that colony.” She looked at him, trying to make eye contact, “you sprained your ankle when you fell in that pool.”

He gave a tiny, sad laugh, then shook his head. “It’s different, Hoshi, and you know it. It’s Malcolm’s job to protect the ship, and he’s constantly tryin’ to sacrifice his own life to do it.” He looked away towards the ocean again. “I had to knock him out to get him off the shuttle.”

“You said that,” Hoshi nodded. “You had to hit him.”

“Only because squeezing his broken arm didn’t do the trick.” Trip blinked rapidly, “Jesus! How could he make me do that? Hafta hurt him to save his life?”

Standing on tiptoe, Hoshi hugged him, pulling him around to face her, and bringing his head down on her shoulder. He moved his arms and she could feel them encircle her. “You need to tell him this, Trip,” she said, “he needs to know how you feel.” She could feel his shoulders shake as he cried.

After a minute Trip lifted his head off her shoulder and looked her straight in the face. Suddenly he kissed her; his mouth hard on hers, his hands pressing her body into his. She felt herself responding, melting against him, opening her mouth further to allow his tongue to enter. His hands roamed up and down her back, coiling in her hair, pressing her against him. A spark of desire flared deep within her. Her eyes flew open, and she stepped back.

He let her go immediately, his eyes wide. “Jesus, Hoshi,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Hoshi raised her hand, cut him off. “It’s okay, commander,” she said, “I understand.” _And I do,_ she promised herself. _I really do_.

They turned back towards the cave, but didn’t start walking. Hoshi watched Trip out of the corner of her eye. His head was down, clearly deep in thought.

She cleared her throat. “Trip?”

“I’m fine, Ensign,” he said. His voice was hard.

They went inside in silence.

* * *

It was late afternoon. Liz was sitting by the fire with Hoshi. Malcolm lay on an emergency blanket on the other side of the fire, and Liz took a small bit of comfort from the constant wheeze of his breathing. She let her eyes roam over Hoshi. The red light glinted off her high cheekbones, making her face, her skin look golden and her eyes dark and mysterious. Hoshi put down the stick she was holding and hugged her knees close to her chest. She noticed Liz watching her.

She moved a lock of hair away from her face. “What are you looking at?” she asked, her voice low, a faint blush stole up her cheeks.

“You.” Liz replied, brushing Hoshi’s face with the back of her fingers. Hoshi caught her hand, brought it to her lips to kiss.

Liz smiled at the other woman, feeling incredible warmth suffuse through her. Liz moved to sit closer to Hoshi, cupped her face in her hands and brought her mouth down for a kiss. She closed her eyes, savouring the taste of honey that was perfectly, uniquely Hoshi. She felt Hoshi’s hands running through her hair, as tangled and dirty as it was, trace down her neck and over the back of her regulation blues. Sweetly, the kiss ended; their lips reluctant to part.

Hoshi leaned into Liz, and Liz put her arms around her, hugging her close as they stared into the fire. “This is nice,” Liz murmured. She glanced over to where Trip sat, keeping watch over Malcolm. Trip was stroking his forehead, his expression bleak. Malcolm still hadn’t regained consciousness. The good feeling she had suddenly dissipated, and she swallowed as a lump formed in the back of her throat.

Hoshi looked up at Liz, and Liz could clearly see the worry reflected in her eyes. “I hate having to wait like this,” she said. “I wish we had heard from _Enterprise_ already.”

Liz hugged her tighter, “me too,” she replied, she tried to smile, felt tears prickling at her eyes instead. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“I didn’t know someone could get so sick so fast.”

“Yes.” Liz felt her lip tremble, blinked rapidly, but it was too late. A tear found a path down her cheek, then another. “I need some air,” she gasped, lurching to her feet and quickly exiting the cave.

Hoshi followed her outside, and Liz allowed herself to be gathered up into Hoshi’s embrace, letting her tears fall against Hoshi’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Liz said after a while, when her crying had eased. She stood up straight, efficiently wiped her eyes, “Guess I’m a little worried,” she tried to laugh.

“You’re not the only one,” Hoshi said, “I was comforting Trip earlier, as well.”

Liz was sure her surprise showed on her face. “Trip was crying?”

“Yes,” Hoshi replied, “he’s as scared as you are. More so.” She paused, and Liz could feel a subtle tension overtake the other woman, a small tightening of the arms that held her.

“Hoshi?” Liz asked.

“He kissed me,” Hoshi blurted out. “It didn’t mean anything. He was just worried and--“

“He kissed you?” Liz felt shock ripple through her, and the first question that popped into her head, “why didn’t you stop it?”

“I don’t know.” Hoshi sounded contrite.

Liz looked at the other woman, and pulled away from Hoshi’s embrace. “You don’t know?” she repeated.

“It didn’t mean anything!” Hoshi said again, “he was upset, that’s all.”

Liz narrowed her eyes; sure that anger was twisting her mouth unpleasantly. “What will you do if he’s devastated, fuck him?”

Hoshi looked shocked, her mouth open, hurt clear in her eyes. “Liz,” she said softly, “I would never -- you know that I wouldn’t!”

“Do I?” Liz said. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the wind whisk the warmth from the cave away from her skin. The sand was cold against her feet.

She felt Hoshi’s hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” the other woman said softly.

Liz stepped away. “I don’t want to talk right now,” she said, “I need to think.”

“Think about what?” Hoshi said, and Liz allowed her to turn her so they were facing each other, “you know that I’m with you and that isn’t going to change.”

“Isn’t it?” Liz said, allowing her tone to become nasty and sharp, “wasn’t I always just the runner up to the fabulous Commander?”

“What?” Hoshi said, “What do you mean?”

“The night we got together, don’t you remember?” Liz snapped, “It was meant to be a double-date between me and Malcolm and you and Trip. Trip chose Malcolm instead and you chose me.” Liz snorted, “Guess you’ll finally get the lover you wanted.”

“I don’t want Trip.” Hoshi said, “How could you even think that?”

“You kissed him, didn’t you?” Liz was horrified to feel her eyes well up with tears again. She blinked fast. “It must have been like a dream come true.”

“But I love you,” Hoshi said, “I never loved Trip.”

Liz’s heart stopped in her chest. The afternoon became very quiet. “What?” she breathed.

“I love you.” Hoshi said again, “how could you think that I’d want to be with Trip?”

“You love me?” Liz heard her voice break, felt the tears start to fall again.

“I love you more than my own life.” Hoshi said simply. She stroked Liz’s hair; let her hand slide over her face, “After the shuttle crash, when I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, that was the worst moment of my life.” Liz saw she was blinking back tears of her own, “I love you, Liz. Only you.”

“I love you, too!” Liz said, only slightly embarrassed as her voice came out in a squeak, and then they were hugging and crying and laughing at the same time, saying the same words over, and over and over.

There was a bright light overhead. Hoshi and Liz looked up.

“Liz!” Hoshi cried, “Its the shuttle!”

Liz jumped away from Hoshi, trying to wipe her face, tidy her hair and straighten her uniform all at once. “Just our luck the Captain will be on board,” she laughed.

“Let’s go tell Trip!” Hoshi grabbed her hand, and together they ran back into the cave.

* * *

Malcolm was the only patient in sick bay. He lay on the biobed, eyes closed, listening to the near-silent rhythm of the engines. He realized that the sound relaxed him, and that, combined with the soft light of the room was giving him a comforting sense of peace. He smiled to himself, allowed his breathing to slow and take on the cadence of sleep.

He hadn’t been aware of the trip back in the shuttle. By that time he’d been unconscious for hours, his fever high, his lungs clogged with pus and fluid. He was quite glad he had missed seeing the expressions on everyone’s faces when they saw his condition, missed the lecture from the Captain about away missions gone awry. But now, a few hours later, with a concoction of Phlox’s antibiotic and zoological remedies humming away through his veins, he was feeling much better.

“Malcolm?” Hoshi’s voice was timid.

He cracked one eye, “yes?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, and he noted that she was biting her lip before he closed his eyes again, and settled back against the pillows.

“Fine,” he replied, smiling, and for once it was true.

“Has Trip been in to see you?”

Malcolm’s smile broadened. “Not yet, I think he’s in a debriefing with the Captain about how we managed to lose the shuttle.” He opened his eyes, and turned his head towards Hoshi, “he saved my life, you know.”

Some of the tension disappeared from her face and she smiled. “I know.”

“You’re in your uniform.”

“Yes,” she answered, “I was first in for debriefing.” She gave a small laugh, “it felt amazing to wash all that salt out of my hair.”

“I’ve no doubt.” He crinkled his eyes.

Hoshi took a breath. “Trip was very worried about you.”

“I was worried about myself!” Malcolm laughed and ended up coughing, but not nearly so bad as before. He sighed in relief.

“We had a talk about how worried he was on our way back from collecting water,” Hoshi continued, “he was very upset. And then you had the seizure--“

Malcolm raised one eyebrow, cutting off her flow of words. “Isn’t this something Trip should be telling me?”

“That’s just it,” Hoshi said in a rush, “I don’t think he will tell you, and I think you should know.”

A small flicker of anxiety sparked in Malcolm. “And what is that, Ensign?” he said. The use of her title felt reassuring.

“Trip kissed me,” she said.

Malcolm furrowed his brow. “Oh.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” she continued, words faster then before, “he was upset, and not thinking straight, he was--“

“And what exactly was he so upset about, that kissing you was the only thing that would make it better?” Malcolm forced his voice to remain even, dispassionate, like they were discussing a munitions report or a new language.

“He was frightened you were going to die.” Hoshi finished.

“Ah.” Malcolm said, “I see.”

“I thought you should know,” Hoshi said lamely.

“Do you want him, Ensign?” he asked.

“No!” Hoshi sounded shocked, “no,” she said more quietly, “I love Liz.” He heard the smile in her voice and felt marginally better.

“Then I guess the matter remains between me and Trip.” He closed his eyes, hoping Hoshi would take the hint.

She did. “Feel better,” she said. He heard her leave, the quiet rustle of her uniform marking her passage through sick bay.

 _Trip kissed Hoshi because he was upset that I might die,_ Malcolm thought. _What was that Liz had said?_ he tried to remember. It was the last conversation he had had on the planet before everything had faded to darkness around him.

She had told him that a piece of Trip died every time he almost did. Every time.

 _I’m killing him. Liz said I was killing him_. A sick feeling rose in Malcolm’s stomach.

* * *

Trip sat, watching Malcolm sleep.

He should have been in bed by now; the events of the past day had exhausted him almost beyond endurance. But he knew how close he had come to losing Malcolm, and it was comforting to watch the steady, even rise and fall of his chest.

Trip sighed, stretched and settled back into the chair. He crossed one ankle over his other leg. His foot jostled the biobed as he lifted it, and Malcolm’s eyes sprang open.

“Sorry,” Trip said ruefully, “I forgot you’re such a light sleeper.”

Malcolm gave him a slow smile, and Trip felt pure love infuse every atom of his being. He took one of Malcolm’s hands, bent closer to tell Malcolm how he felt. If there ever was going to be a perfect time to declare his feelings, now was it.

Malcolm’s smile vanished. Trip felt himself start and he sat back. Malcolm’s expression was cold, closed. His hand unresponsive in Trip’s fingers.

“I really didn’t mean to wake you,” Trip said, he stood to leave. “I’ll go so you can get some sleep--“

“Sit down, Trip.” It wasn’t a request. Trip sat, suddenly very nervous.

“What’s up, Malcolm?”

Malcolm’s eyes were narrowed, their colour almost black in the dim light of sick bay. “Hoshi tells me that you kissed her.”

Trip could feel all the blood rush away from his face. “She told you?” he said, realizing a second too late that was the wrong thing to say.

“Was I not meant to know?” Malcolm’s voice was very calm.

“No. I mean--” Trip paused, ran a hand through his hair, “It didn’t mean nothin’, Malcolm.” he said, “Just a stupid thing.”

“Hoshi has already explained to me how ‘meaningless’ it was.” Malcolm said, he sighed. “Its not actually the kiss that disturbs me, Trip.” He continued, and Trip nearly shivered at the distance in the other man’s tone, It’s the fact that it occurred at all.”

“I don’t plan on kissin’ Hoshi again any time soon,” Trip tried to laugh.

“You misunderstand,” Malcolm said, “Hoshi said you kissed her because you were upset. You kissed her because you were afraid I was going to die.”

Trip shook his head slightly, “I guess,” He said finally, “there was a lot goin’ on.”

“I know I’m the type of person who might get killed,” Malcolm continued, “I get hurt quite a lot and this time I caught a dangerous illness.” His tone was even, controlled. “It would be reasonable to expect that I might die in the course of my duties here on _Enterprise_.”

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Trip said, “I just came here to see how you were doin’.”

“Well, I’m not dead.” Malcolm gave a small smile.

Trip felt anger boil up inside him and spill over in the same instant, “not for your damn lack of tryin’!” he raged, “You spend so much of your goddamn time tryin’ to kill yourself it’s a wonder that you _ain’t_!”

“The good of the many--“

“Oh spare me your god-damned useless quotes,” Trip snarled, “it seems you’re always thinkin’ about the ‘many’ when you’re tryin’ to sacrifice yourself, aintcha?” He slammed his palm against his chest, “have you ever thought about me any of those times you were tryin’ to suffocate yourself out on the hull, or drown yourself in a shuttle pod? Have you?”

“I am thinking of you!” Malcolm said, “It’s to protect you, to protect everyone in the crew that I choose to make those sacrifices! That’s my job!”

“Is that all I am to you? _A job_?”

“I was trying to protect you.” Malcolm repeated, “I didn’t want your death to be because of me.”

“But what about me?” Trip said. He felt strangely detached, light headed, as if the conversation were happening to someone else. “Was I just supposed to let you die?”

“Yes.” Malcolm’s tone was absolute.

“I can’t do that, Malcolm.”

“I know,” Malcolm said gently, “and that’s why I think it would be best if we ended this relationship.”

Trip felt like he couldn’t breathe, “You wanna break up with me?”

“No. I have broken up with you.” Malcolm turned his head away, “This relationship can’t work. I’m sorry.”

“Malcolm--” Trip reached out a hand to touch the other man; found he couldn’t and curled it into a fist. “I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

Malcolm didn’t open his eyes. “Trip, Commander. Please, go.”

Trip’s throat was tight. He brushed angrily at a tear that was hanging on his eyelashes, “It isn’t finished. We’re not finished yet.” He said. Malcolm didn’t move a muscle. Trip turned and walked towards the door then turned back. “Malcolm,” he pleaded, “Don’t do this!”

“Good bye, Trip.” Malcolm said softly.

Trip left. The doors of sickbay closing firmly behind him.

 

END


End file.
